


A Song and A Dance

by arthurmorgan-s-heart (Silverblind)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 06:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17544254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverblind/pseuds/arthurmorgan-s-heart
Summary: Arthur knows he shouldn't be jealous - but watching Dutch hold you so close, he truly can't help it.





	A Song and A Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fill from my tumblr blog. Uploaded here for convenience - find me on tumblr - arthurmorgan-s-heart
> 
> Original request text: "how about Arthur being jealous as he sees Dutch flirting with reader (ya know he loves women so why not to flirt?), reader doesn't know Arthur has feelings for her, Arthur and reader end up discussing everything"

The camp is alive with music and laughter that night, for the first time in what seems like years.

Arthur is content to sit and watch from afar as Karen leads a blushing Lenny into a dance, twirling in the space in front of Dutch’s tent alongside Javier and Mary Beth as the gramophone spews a lively tune - it’s good to see them all so carefree, for once. He almost wants to let himself believe that they’re back out West, before Blackwater, before everything, and that the last few months had been nothing but a bad dream.

The sound of your laughter draws his eyes to you - you smile and clap your hands as you watch the others dance, and he feels his heart beat faster at the sight. He wonders what it would be like to dance with you - pulling you close as you sway together to a slow, sweet song, your hands on his shoulders as he holds your hips… He knows that you would never say yes, even had he the courage to ask you - but it is nice to simply allow himself to dream.

Arthur sees you perk up in your seat as Dutch approaches you, snapping him out of his daydream - he feels himself tense as he watches Dutch extend a hand toward you with a roguish smile, and though he’s sitting much too far away to hear his words, it’s not difficult to guess what Dutch is saying.

_May I have this dance?_

Arthur sees you nod as you take Dutch’s hand - is that a blush on your cheeks, or is it a trick of the light? - and he wastes no time in sweeping you into his arms even as the last few notes of the previous song fade away into the warm summer air, quickly replaced by another, calmer piece - exactly the kind of music Arthur had imagined himself holding you to just a moment ago.

Arthur had never been a jealous man, but as he watches you dance with Dutch, his hands touching you in all the places he had himself wished he could touch, holding you as close as he had dreamed he could hold you, he feels a cold anger swell within him, though he’s quick to stamp it out; you’re not his, never will be, and he has no right to feel this way - though he feels it rise again when Dutch pull you even closer against him before whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh, sweetly and sincerely, the joyful sound like a cold hand grasping at his heart.

In his frustration, Arthur doesn’t notice your eyes shifting toward him, not until you meet his gaze - and when you smile at him over Dutch’s shoulder, his heart skips a beat, as it always does, everything but the warmth in your eyes suddenly forgotten, forgiven. But Dutch whirls you away but a second later, and by the time you manage to look at Arthur again, he’s gone.

* * *

 

It takes you a long time to find Arthur once Dutch release you; you would have thought him gone had his horse not still been grazing amongst the others. He’s smoking a cigarette by the lake, sitting on a piece of driftwood at the water’s edge, looking down at his feet as the night tide laps at the tips of his boots. You see him turn his head toward you slightly at the sound of your footsteps, just enough to see it’s you, before he looks away again.

“Noticed you were gone,” you start softly as you come to stand next to him. “You alright?”

“Sure,” he answers, taking a long drag of his cigarette before offering it to you without looking up; you take it from his fingers, bringing it to your lips.

“Then why you sittin’ out here?” you ask lightly. You’d seen the way he’d looked at you, back there - there was something on his mind.

“Wanted to be alone, I guess,” he says, and you chuckle quietly - coming from anyone else, you would have taken it for a slightly rude dismissal. But there was an edge of humour to his words, laced in every syllable, the way only Arthur could; something that most people would have missed, but not you.

“You want me to leave, then?” you ask nonetheless as you place the cigarette between your lips, breathing deep.

He looks up at you for the first time then, the shadow of a smile playing in the curve of his mouth as he extends his hand for his cigarette. You arch an eyebrow, making no move to give it back to him as you exhale the smoke, waiting for his answer.

“Well, I sure don’t want you to leave with my damn cigarette,” he says gruffly.

“Move over, then,” you reply, stepping closer and pushing lightly at his shoulder; he tenses for a second before inching away from you and toward the end of the fallen tree, allowing you to sit. Even then, it’s a tight fit; your shoulder presses against his as you lower yourself next to him, finally handing him back his cigarette as you stare out over the water, sighing contentedly. You sit together in silence for a moment, passing the cigarette between the both of you, before he finally speaks.

“You and Dutch sure seem awful close,” he starts slowly, watching as you flick the still burning remains of the cigarette into the lake. “Careful Molly don’t claw your eyes out.”

You chuckle as you exhale the last of the smoke, turning to look at him.

“He don’t mean nothin’ by it,” you answer. “You know how he is.”

Arthur _does_ know how Dutch is with women - always charming and flirting his way into the fairer sex’s good graces with nothing but a smile and a few words -, which makes his childish jealousy all the more embarrassing. You’re most likely right, and he knows it.

“Still,” he mutters, fishing through his pockets for another cigarette. “Miss O’Shea’s a jealous one. Should watch your back.”

“Is she the  _only_ jealous one?” you ask suddenly, and he freezes for half a heartbeat, just long enough for you to notice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, finally pulling a new cigarette from his pocket and putting it between his lips.

You watch him strike a match on the sole of his boot, bringing it up to light the cigarette before throwing it into the water, the small flame snuffed out in an instant. He grunts in protest when you snatch the cigarette from his lips before he can take a drag, bringing it to your own mouth.

“You know what I mean,” you answer, ignoring his annoyed look - though his eyes are too soft for you to think he is truly annoyed. “I seen you lookin’ at me,” you add softly.

He turns away at your words, dipping his head so that the rim of his hat hides most of his face, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’s silent for a long while, but you don’t rush him.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, as quiet as the rolling of the waves from the lake. “I’ll stop - “

“Never said you should,” you cut him off, and you see him look up at you again. Your smile seems to comfort him, if only a little, his eyes searching your face for a moment before he finally allows himself to answer with one of his own. You hand him his cigarette back as he sits up, his fingers lingering against yours for a few heartbeats before he takes it.

“Guess that’s something to think on,” he says, lifting the cigarette to his lips as he meets you eyes; there’s doubt and disbelief there - but hope, as well. You look out over the water once more as you move closer to him - he doesn’t pull away.

“Take all the time you need,” you say quietly. “I’ll be here.”


End file.
